Licking Wounds

The dark story of my family life continues. Having been hit and verbally abused by a family member for years, I took the necessary step of finally moving out.

It's been a good two or so weeks since I left the abusive home where the relative still stays despite what he's done. Outside the family, people have been uncannily kind to me when they heard I have begun to rent. My close friends, if not comrades, in the office have even been offering to buy me lunch just so I won't have to eat instant noodles everyday this month. I paid rent and the advance deposit, plus bought a bed and some furniture, that's why I'm suddenly dirt poor. But I've been happy. I've started to laugh again and become positive at work. It made me feel like a new test is coming, which I didn't want to think, but which sadly did arrive.

I didn't expect it. Things just don't add up sometimes. I may have gotten a better job but that doesn't mean I'm shitting cash. I mean, who actually expects that? Why do people keep assuming I do shit cash? I already computed my budget and had a talk at home that I will need to reduce my contributions given that I'll be shelling out more than half of what I make every month to pay for my mortgage, rent and living expenses. I will also need to set aside 20% in case of emergencies as I don't have healthcare yet. I thought we were in agreement with that.

I then come home only to be shouted at about how my contributions aren't enough. I was even told that if I don't want to give money then don't. Oh, God. Why do these people think of me like I'm some stingy bitch who doesn't want to share money? It's not that I DON'T WANT to give. It's that I don't have the amount you want me to give. If I give that, there's a possibility I will be short of cash before next payday.

I've been eating canned beans and steamed vegetables for days just so I keep my daily cash out at Php 300. Such is the reality of someone just starting out, which when I tried to explain, I was promptly cut short and dismissed. My difficulties don't even matter because I apparently don't understand what they go through at home. Two weeks. I was away just two weeks. Will I need a bulletproof vest on my next visit?

I'd already offered to pay for dinner before I came home today. How come that doesn't even account for any good points on my account? I'm still the girl who doesn't know how to listen. Well let me pose the question, who declared "I don't want to talk about this" and who was screaming at the top of her lungs?

Maybe to some people, nothing is ever enough. They will wait for you to bleed your guts out, and still they won't see that you've tried to give your all. They will dismiss it as angst or drama, because theirs is the REAL suffering. Sadly the truth is everyone suffers in this world. And that's why God introduced kindness and compassion. For people who go to church every week, it's a surprise that I rarely see these in action.

Oh, I try to understand. But this event just wounds me yet again. Pain makes wounded animals bite.


(Readers of this blog must be wondering why I'm suddenly spilling the dirt on my life when I've kept up this noble facade of being an accomplished writer blah blah blah. I kept many secrets and didn't write anything close to home because this caused problems for me before. Well my writings are dirt. And I am dirt. Life will just have to take back the dirt it has thrown at me. I won't keep these secret anymore. Silence has done me no good)